Life isn't meant to be easy
by Black-beauty13
Summary: Clint deals with post traumatic stress syndrome after a harrowing experience.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first try at a darker themed story...would love feedback.

_Disclaimer: I do not in any way profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator._

Clint has dealt with a lot of shit in his life, so much so that it's almost the short bright sunny periods of his life that actually unsettle him. And as much as he hated to admit it, being part of the avengers team has certainly been among those. He might not be the most social guy in the world, but there was a sort of comfort to being surrounded by people he trusted, even when he didn't necessarily like them all. When the other shoe finally dropped, he was almost relieved in a way.

Pain and suffering he was familiar with, getting captured by a bad guy and tied to a chair buck naked while his pet monster tenderizes him with a little saliva before taking a bite out of his shoulder was hardly the worst thing that has ever happened to him. He can't help sneering when Coulson arranges for him to talk to a shrink, and scares the young pimply kid sitting across from him so much that he'd probably need to get a lot of therapy himself.

The first time he realized that there was something not quite right was after their next mission. Steve had pulled him in for a celebratory hug after the goo monster of the week had finally exploded. Clint knew he was more of a stickler for personal space than most other people, but his usual reaction to its invasion was annoyance, not dread. The sudden flashback to inhuman claws gripping him tightly took him by surprise, and he didn't realize he was clawing desperately at the other man's shield, trying to push him away, until Steve let him go like a hot brick and stepped back.

"I apologize, Clint..I didn't mean to hurt you, I guess I still forget my strength sometimes."

Steve's puppy dog eyes almost makes Clint want to assure him that he had only used a very reasonable amount of force in the hug, but he needs that excuse, so he just nods and mumbles , "Don't worry about it."

Clint knows from the prickly sensation at the back of his neck that he's being watched, and turns to see Natasha watching him almost clinically.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for the reviews :) I am trying to make the chapters longer but in the meantime I will try to make up with fast updates :)

Clint tries to shake the incident off an anomaly, his brains way to try and keep him from getting a little too complacent. But he knows all too well, once the door opens all that stuff you push down over the years comes back with a vengeance. He has seen it happen to others all too often, people going from being competent agents to being locked up in a straight-jacket over what seems like the most absurd of reasons. He had watched them with a sort of morbid fascination, but never once considered that it could be him one day. He had believed, perhaps naively, that he was somehow better than that. Now, suddenly he wasn't so sure.

The next mission goes smoothly, and he relaxes a little bit. When the gang heads to a bar to celebrate, he's pleasantly buzzed, and more than a little interested when his dancing partner for the night, an attractive redhead that reminds him only slightly of Natasha, gently tugs him towards one of the fancy private rooms. The slide of hands over his body is exhilarating, and he feels more like himself than he has for a while. He lets himself be pushed against the wall, and grins to himself at the enthusiasm of his partner. Being a member of an elite superhero team certainly has certainly made getting laid a lot easier.

The redhead breaks off the kiss, and sharply nibbles at his ear before soothing the sting with her talented tongue. His visions blackens for a second, and he's back in the cell, a long rough tongue scraping over his shoulder, he tenses and closes his eyes in expectation of the pain he knows is coming. When it doesn't, he opens his eyes and sees the redhead staring at him quizzically.

"Are you alright? You look spooked." She asked, looking somewhat put off.

He's too tired to make up an excuse for a stranger, so he just shrugs before quickly making his way back to the group. When he sits down, Tony smirks at him, "Where's your new friend?"

Clint grimaces, so they had seen him leave and come back in just as quickly. His hand is twitching, and he desperately wants the weight of a bow in them, but has to make to by grabbing the leg of his chair tightly.

Tony doesn't seem like he wants to let the matter go, "Although I must say I am disappointed in you, Hawkeye. Three minutes?"

"It's not about the quantity, but the quality, Stark." He forces his usual smirk unto his face, wondering if it looked as fake as it felt.

Apparently, it didn't because everybody grinned and went back to the discussion that his arrival had interrupted, the addition of a sauna to the manor. He feels a sharp ache in his chest as looks around at his team-mates, friends if he is being totally honest and realises his days with them are numbered.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much for the reviews, they are like chocolate and flowers for me lol. I hope you enjoy the next part.

Now that he had admitted to himself that the flashbacks weren't going away, Clint actually felt much calmer. He knew most people thought he was impulsive, maybe even reckless based on some of his acrobatics but he was actually pretty systematic in his thinking. During a mission, even as he decided on his spot up in a building, he was simultaneously plotting exit paths, his mind glossing over exactly how many arrows he had left, of what type, even which order he would probably use them. He knew exactly where each team-mate was at any point of time, knew who he could ask for lift up or down or who might need a little cover.

Knowing as many variables as possible was what made him good at his job. So, he started with a little basic research. The first site politely asked him to input his symptoms and churned out a diagnosis in a matter a seconds…PTSD. Clint stared at the letters on his laptop screen, so innocuous and yet somehow deadly. It also listed a set of future symptoms to expect…irritability, insomnia, dizziness, fainting not to make the fact that it made you were likely to startle if a butterfly landed on you. He knew he had a reputation for being irritable, so that one probably wouldn't matter too much. But it was laughable to think of a SHIELD agent likely to faint or panic at the drop of a hat.

He decided he had some time left before things got that bad, besides he wasn't ready to quit just yet. He'd be careful and the second he knew he was a liability, he'd quit.

That moment came a lot sooner than he would have liked. He knew he hadn't been sleeping though the night for a couple of weeks, nightmares of a dark room and pain which somehow seemed more real than his waking moments. But he had functioned on much less sleep for much longer in the past, so he thought he had it under control.

The winged nuisances attacking the city would have been a dream mission for him at any other time. They were small and seemed to be all beaks and claws. They were fast and there seemed to be thousands of them…most of the avengers were struggling a little bit, whether or not they were willing to admit it. There was very little the captain or hulk could do against them, they simply flew away when they tried to attack and swarmed them from behind. Stark and Natha were holding their own…but just barely. This was a mission that required precision, not super strength or firepower. This could have been his crowning moment, picking out the menaces quickly and cleanly, but instead he was struggling. He was on edge, hyper aware of his surroundings but not in a good way. His focus was slipping and he knew he was in trouble.

"Barton," Natasha's voice sounded in his ear, "I think I found the queen or whatever is controlling this swarm, I need you to clear a path for me."

"I got you," Clint replied, trying to sound a lot more confident than he felt. He focused on clearing the creatures directly in front of her, and immediately felt himself be swarmed as he was no longer focused on defending himself. He could feel them pecking and clawing at his back…and gritted his teeth against the pain. He perked up when he heard Natasha on the comm again, "Barton, do u see the one about three feet to my three o clock? Slightly different hue?" Clint spotted it immediately, and drew his bow, focusing on the tiny speck. He released the arrow just as the creature made a beeline for Natasha. The arrow almost missed the creature but clipped the tail, causing it to slow down just for a second. Natasha grabbed the opportunity and fired an entire round into it.

The swarm disappeared around them, disappearing in tiny flashes of light that was surprisingly beautiful.

"Well, at least clean up won't be hard," Stark said brightly.

Clint stared at his last arrow, lying on the floor near Natasha feet, mocking him, showing clear proof of his failure to the entire world and knew that he was done, once and for all.


End file.
